


Ideal

by MostWeakHamlets



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1970s, F/M, Human AU, Kinda, Pregnancy, aziraphale belongs to an uppity conservative family, crowley hates that family, shotgun marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24745510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostWeakHamlets/pseuds/MostWeakHamlets
Summary: Anthoni and Aziraphale have been friends for over a decade and dating for three months. And then Anthoni gets pregnant. Concerned about how Aziraphale's very Catholic family will react, they try eloping only to get distracted by the family's want for a traditional wedding and family holiday. Battling morning sickness, traditional values, and the changing times of the 1970s, Aziraphale and Anthoni do their best to hide a pregnancy and growing discontent for the family.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	1. June

When Anthoni was a little girl, she learned how to swaddle her baby dolls like a real mommy would. She carried them around and would hush relatives if they were too loud during nap time. When her younger cousin, Bel, was born, she cooed over the bassinet and begged to be allowed to feed them. 

It came as a surprise to see the same girl who challenged neighborhood boys to roughhouse in the streets be so gentle and caring towards an infant. Her relatives marveled at how she held Bel in her lap and held on fiercely tight when the older cousins were too rough. Once Bel was put down for a nap or taken away for a change, Anthoni would run off and wrestle in the garden with the boys. 

One year in secondary school, a girl in Anthoni’s class had a baby brother. Throughout the rest of the term, a handful of girls would regularly gather around at lunch to talk about future baby names and coo over the idea of onesies and booties. Anthoni never wanted to let people know that she found the booties and clothes adorable, but she did keep a list of names tucked away in the back of a book as the others did. Her list was better than the others’, she believed. Her names were sensible and unique rather than borrowed from a dead great-grandmother she had never met yet decided to honor.

Anthoni babysat that same baby boy for three years when the girl went on a rebellious streak in their later teen years. He was mostly well-behaved but loved destroying his toys. The parents didn’t seem to care as long as he was fed and put to bed by the time they got home. New toys could be bought, but a healthy child was priceless. 

Anthoni used her pay to buy new boots and a few albums. The girl stuck her nose up at Anthoni and made comments to her friends about how she could use the money her parents were giving away to the community freak. She was later horrified to learn that a variety of condiments had made it into her shampoo. Her parents never believed her claims that it was Anthoni and instead punished her little brother. 

A cousin had his first child when Anthoni was beginning her first year of university. She visited once to see the scrunched up face and curled fists. She was allowed to hold him for a few minutes, gently touching the soft cheeks and examining the tiny fingers.

There were a few girls she befriended at school who were eager to hear about the new baby. Babies were exciting in different ways now that they were so close to being attainable. The girls wanted stories to tell their boyfriends over and over again. It would do the men good, they said before scurrying off to leave Anthoni alone, to hear about the joys of little babies. It was best to start planting the seeds early. Anthoni played up the story every time she told it and at night would fall asleep thinking about a baby of her own. 

She hoped that no matter what, her future child would have her red hair. The kid could do without her almost yellow, damaged-before-birth eyes. Hopefully, the father would have nice eyes. She liked to imagine being doted on in the third trimester and putting together a nursery with a nice man. The man was vague in her mind, but she knew that he would have to be handsome. 

Someday, she assured herself, the most handsome man on the planet would fall in love with her and she would proudly show him and her baby off to every single who hinted that Anthoni (with her eyes and pointy chin and scrawny arms and legs) would need to settle for someone less than Mr. Perfect. 

“If it is positive,” Aziraphale said, “then I support whatever you want to do.” 

Anthoni hummed. She didn’t look at Aziraphale and instead focused on the top of her bookcase. Dust was probably piling up on it, but who really thought about dusting a place you couldn’t see that often? She would have to put it on her list of areas to scrub next time she went on a deep clean of her apartment. 

“Not that you need my permission, of course,” Aziraphale said. “But anything you need—I can be there.” 

The shower curtain needed to be replaced as well, now that Anthoni thought about it. And while she picked up a new curtain, she could find a new moisturizer. Her latest bottle hadn’t been cutting it. 

“Anthoni, are you listening?” 

She turned to Aziraphale. “Yeah. You support me or whatever.”

“I just want you to know—”

“Why are you assuming that it’s positive?”

“I’m not. It’s just something I want out there before we check.” 

“Okay.” 

“And we’ve been sitting here for hours. I think we can check it now.” 

Anthoni pulled her legs up to her chest and sank into the cushions of her sofa. She didn’t want to go into the bathroom where they had set up the pregnancy test. She feared finding the little red ring in the test tube staring up at her, and she was certain that after a missed period and near-constant nausea, she would see it. 

“Do you want me to check with you?” Aziraphale asked. Anthoni nodded. “Do you want to go?”

“No. Give me a few more minutes.” 

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready.” 

Anthoni imagined herself nine months pregnant trying to hang a shower curtain and dust her apartment. There was so much that always needed taking care of. 

But she also had always imagined herself as a mother, though she had pictured herself dating someone longer than three months before it would all happen. The fear wasn’t so much in her being pregnant but being pregnant with Aziraphale’s child. 

“If it is positive,” Anthoni said. “I would like to keep it.” 

Aziraphale suppressed a smile. He tried so hard to remain neutral from the minute Anthoni told him what she suspected. She saw the initial horror in his eyes as they drove to the drug store to buy a test, but he didn’t say anything negative or positive. She had appreciated it. It left her alone with her own thoughts, frantically weighing the pros and cons of every outcome. 

“You don’t have to stay around,” she said, looking away again. “If this isn’t your thing.” 

She said it like she was asking if he wanted to stay to watch a football game on TV. Casual and seemingly not caring about the answer. 

Aziraphale turned his entire body to look at Anthoni. “I won’t leave just because this wasn’t… ideal.” 

“But you don’t  _ have to _ stick around out of pity.”

“But I  _ want  _ to stay!”

“Fine!” Anthoni snapped. “We’ll raise a baby together, then.” 

“Alright. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” 

“Good. Let’s look then.” 

Anthoni got to her feet and waited for Aziraphale to do the same. Though they had been dating for all of three months, they had known each other for years. They had met through mutual friends at university and immediately found something about one another than they adored. By the time they were finishing their degrees, they were inseparable. And through a little flirting and long conversations over the next decade, they eventually found themselves on an official date. 

It had all come undone like a bomb. After much anticipation, they were all over one another and saw each other every day. They barely had any other friends, but they found happiness for 87 days through shameless date nights and morning coffee. 

And now, they were looking at a pregnancy test. 

Anthoni opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Aziraphale stayed in the doorway, wringing his fingers. He finally looked worried. 

It didn’t take long for Aziraphale’s family to disapprove of Anthoni. The first time that his older brother, Gabriel, saw Anthoni asleep on Aziraphale’s sofa in his shitty student apartment, he scolded Aziraphale about the dangers of letting strange women into his life. Aziraphale quickly defended the still-sleeping Anthoni. He said that she was a friend and had simply locked herself the night before. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, he claimed, hiding the fact that they had been drunk together. Gabriel had reluctantly agreed with him but shot Anthoni a dirty look when she sat up half an hour later and sleepily waved at him. 

“Well,” Anthoni said, looking at the mirror at the bottom of the kit. “Red ring means pregnant, right?” 

“It does.” 

Anthoni grabbed the test tube and poured her urine down the sink. “I want to do it again.” 

“Was it positive?”

Aziraphale went to church with his family through university. He still lived close by and was expected to be there every Sunday, sitting with his siblings as if he were still a child. There was a disastrous weekend where Anthoni showed up with Aziraphale, wearing a skirt that nearly reached her knees but was deemed to be “too short” by Aziraphale’s sisters who had only slightly more modest suits. It only got worse when Anthoni innocently mentioned that she should have worn trousers. 

“Yup.” 

“Well, maybe we should call your doctor if you’d like to double-check.” 

“He’s not exactly the most open-minded guy. You know how reluctant he was to give me the pill.” 

Anthoni and Aziraphale made a pact to live in London together. And while they didn’t end up living right down the hall from one another as they had been, a short drive or walk would put them at each other’s doorsteps. London was sinful, according to Aziraphale’s family. They asked him if he knew about the porn and drugs that circulated the city. He responded, a bit sheepishly, that he did but that he knew of a place within the city that was free from it all. Soho was obviously not free from it all, but he didn’t care. 

Anthoni was impressed. 

“I can be there. As your partner. People aren’t nearly as uptight as they used to be,” Aziraphale said. “But if you’d like me to be there, I will be.” 

Anthoni dried her hands. “What are we going to tell your family?”

“It’s none of their business.” 

Anthoni gave him a comical, knowing look. “Angel.” 

“I know. They’ll be furious.” 

They walked to the sitting room, returning to their places on the sofa. Anthoni moved carefully as if a single wrong step would harm the baby she just became aware of.

“They’ll send me to a monastery,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll never be able to talk to anyone ever again.”

“I’d sneak you out on weekends.” 

Aziraphale didn’t appreciate the joke. He rubbed the palms of his hands back and forth on his trousers. Anthoni stilled them with her legs as she swung them up onto his lap and laid down. 

“I don’t know them  _ that  _ well,” she said. “But I think the most they’d do is make us get married.” 

“It already feels like we’re married,” Aziraphale mumbled, resting his hands on Anthoni’s bell-bottom jeans. 

They certainly did bicker like a married couple. And they had spent countless nights together, talking until the sun rose and sleeping through morning classes or getting late brunch together. Though their romantic feelings were less explored and largely hidden, their platonic feelings had always shone through. They had loved one another early on. Aziraphale was always around to make cocoa when Anthoni was upset, and Anthoni knew all of Aziraphale’s favorite restaurants like the back of her hand. 

They had been mistaken over and over again for a couple. 

“Wait a minute.” Anthoni raised herself on her elbows. "What if we say we got married at a register office without them? And then we tell them I'm pregnant."

Aziraphale cringed. "I'm not sure if faking a marriage is the best way around this. Besides, they'll have a fit if I had a civil marriage."

"Oh, the horrors of a civil marriage."

"Try to understand where they're coming from with that. It's more about family being around than God. Sort of. And I'm already the black sheep. I don't need them holding an elopement over my head."

Anthoni hummed. "So, this is going to be one of those things we have to be honest about?"

"I'm afraid so. Even if it takes 100 Hail Marys to be forgiven for it."

Anthoni fell back on the sofa. She tucked one hand under her head and the other fell on her hip. Slowly, it inched closer to her stomach. 

Aziraphale couldn't help but smile. 100 Hail Marys and potential disownment would be worth it one day once Aziraphale would learn to cope with the guilt and shame of it all. It would be like how Anthoni described sex. There are no real consequences. Just societal ones.

Well, that didn't seem to hold up now that Aziraphale was looking at his pregnant partner. 

But a child did seem very much like a societal consequence for them. They were both trust fund babies themselves and would have more than enough means to take care of a little one who was very much wanted now that they were known. The only part that was going to matter was the non-existent marriage. And if Aziraphale were truly honest with himself, he didn't see what the big deal was if he had already secretly entertained the idea of marrying Anthoni in the future. At some point or another, he'd make an honest woman of her. 

Oh. 

There was a loophole. 

"Dear?" Aziraphale asked. "Have you ever thought about getting married?"

"Like in general? Yeah."

"No. To me."

Anthoni's flushed and she turned her head into the cushions. "Why would I even think of that?" she said, voice muffled. 

"I've thought of it before," Aziraphale whispered. 

He would admit years later just how early in their friendship he had fantasized about living the perfect, socially and Catholic accepted life with a woman who looked and acted very similar to Anthoni. Meanwhile, it would be little time before Anthoni would admit to drunkenly thinking about having a dozen, blue-eyed kids with Aziraphale 30 minutes after meeting him. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. In a sort of delusional way," Aziraphale said. "Or crazy."

"I don't think it's weird to think that far in advance. Not if you've known the person for almost 15 years anyway."

Anthoni peaked out from her cushions. "Well, when you put it that way… we have been partners of some sort for a while."

"Right."

"And if my family is most likely make us marry anyway, don't you want to do it on our terms?"

"I don't know. What are you saying?"

"Do you want to marry me? And I can introduce you to my family again as my fiancée?"

Her head went back into the cushions. She mumbled something that Aziraphale couldn't make out. 

"What was that?"

"I said, you have to do it properly."

"Properly?" 

Anthoni’s bright red face came fully out. "Yeah. You know, get down one knee. Phrase it differently."

"Ah."

Aziraphale gently pushed Anthoni’s legs away. As she sat up on the sofa, he lowered himself to the floor. Once he was on one knee as instructed, he opened his mouth to speak but only giggles came out. 

"Stop laughing!" Anthoni said, giggling as well. "Make this serious. I want a serious proposal or I'll make you do it again tomorrow."

"I'm trying." Aziraphale took a deep breath and perhaps a bit too much like a child playing said, "Will you marry me?"

Anthoni nodded. Aziraphale stood to kiss her forehead. 

“Engaged,” he said. “How about that?” 

“Don’t worry. If it doesn’t work out, we can always get it annulled.” 


	2. June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's pushy siblings insist on a full religious wedding rather than a quick, civil one, and Anthoni doesn't want to picture herself walking down the aisle at 9 months pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! Chapter 2!

Anthoni pushed her salad around on her plate, trying to breathe through her mouth until the hot, potent steam from the surrounding plates faded. Under the table, Aziraphale squeezed her hand. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it to Mass this morning,” Aziraphale asked. 

“If Anthoni wasn’t feeling well, she wasn’t feeling well,” Gabriel said. “It’s alright. They happen every Sunday.” 

They had planned on leaving late the night before to make a good impression by joining the family at church at 6 am. But unfortunately, Anthoni had felt too ill and tired to get off the sofa that evening, and they pushed their trip back until the following afternoon. 

“I just get terrible headaches with no warning sometimes.” It was a partial lie. She would get terrible stress headaches every now and again, but the clump of cells shooting off hormones inside her was the real reason behind their absence. “It came out of nowhere yesterday.” 

“Have you talked to your doctor about them?” Michael asked. 

She was genuinely curious. She was a doctor and had designated herself as the go-to in the family for medical advice. It was annoying at times, but Aziraphale couldn’t complain. She was hardly a tender, caring older sister on a regular basis. But in the past 15 years, as she entered and finished medical school and began practicing in a small clinic, Aziraphale took advantage of the rare, fleeting moments where she touched his forehead if he complained of feeling feverish. With that, he convinced himself that she genuinely cared for him. 

“I have,” Anthoni said. “He said they’re not worrisome. They don’t happen too frequently.” 

Michael hummed and cut into her salmon. Anthoni looked away and took a subtle breath through her mouth behind her napkin. 

“How was Mass?” Aziraphale asked. “Anything exciting happen?” 

“There was a lovely sermon,” Uriel said. 

“Father Mulcahy really outdid himself this week,” Gabriel agreed with a wide smile. “You should try to make it back up sometime soon while he’s still on the book of Michael.” 

“I do love that book,” Aziraphale said. “And my current priest’s sermons can’t compare to Father Mulcahy’s. Maybe I’ll try to find another Sunday I can close for the full day. It’s a shame that summers are so busy.” 

Anthoni was out of the loop. In between taking small sips of water to calm her nausea and not knowing who any of the people discussed were, she could barely keep up. 

Father Mulcahy, she was certain, was a man from a TV show she watched every once in a while. She was half-tempted some nights to escape to America and find Alan Alda. It wouldn’t be a permanent thing. She just wanted a small affair with them. Aziraphale had agreed with her that he was handsome, so maybe he could forgive her. 

She was pulled back into the conversation when the church talk stopped. She wanted to ask if anyone there also fancied Alan Alda but was cut off. 

“Is there a reason you wanted dinner with us?” Michael asked. 

“We haven’t had a family meal in a while,” Aziraphale said, a bit stiff. 

“We have. Usually after church. You just live in a different city now.” 

Aziraphale tried to smile through the confession that they had been meeting without him. He didn’t want to care. They were always mean to him whenever he journeyed down to see them, so he didn’t want to expect any better. There were comments about his weight and prying questions about his business followed by hints that no one believed that it would be successful for much longer. 

It infuriated Anthoni to know the trouble Aziraphale went to keep up appearances only to be treated so terribly. After ranting for an hour about how Aziraphale’s family didn’t deserve him, she would take him out herself. She encouraged him to get dessert if he wanted it and asked if he had any book recommendations for her. And even though she hardly read his recommendations, he happily listed off every book he could think of and she listened. 

“Well, we do have some news,” Aziraphale said, looking to Anthoni. “We’re planning on getting married.” 

The table fell silent. Three pairs of eyes stared at the two of them without a single smile between them. Aziraphale rubbed his hands under the table and worked at a sliver of skin that was hanging off around his nail. 

“Just say you won’t disown him so we can move on,” Anthoni said. 

“Dear—”

“Oh!” Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows. “No. Why would we do that? I think we’re all just… surprised about how sudden this is.” 

Anthoni shrugged. “We know what we want. No point in waiting any longer.” 

“You’ve been together for—what? A few months?” 

“Yes.” Aziraphale nodded. “Officially. But we have knowen each other for years, and we feel that this is right.” 

“How do you know that it’s right if it’s only been three months?” Uriel asked, a bite in her words. 

Gabriel held out a hand, stopping her from going any further. “I’m sure they don’t want to be interrogated right now.” He smiled at Aziraphale and Anthoni. “Congratulations.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Thanks.” 

There was a moment of relief between the two. Aziraphale smiled at Anthoni and squeezed her hand again. No questions were good. They only had 21 days left until the register office approved their forms, and then they could secretly marry and send a letter to family, “explaining” it all. 

Aziraphale had done the math for them the night they gave their notice to the office. They had assumed that Anthoni was already five weeks along when they noticed (though a visit to her doctor’s office would have to confirm their guess), and she would be due sometime in February. They could marry when she was just three months in and announce the pregnancy from a distance right after she began her second trimester. 

When the time came for the baby to be born, Aziraphale doubted that his siblings would visit against their wishes. And if they hid the birth for a while and perhaps claimed that it came premature, it would buy them enough time to have a legitimate child no one would see until they were certain they were “healthy.” 

It would have to be an elaborate lie, but there would be no harm down the road if they could pull it off. Aziraphale would be vague about the exact birthday and within a year, no one would remember what month the child was born. A May child would turn into a February child, and everything would be right back on track. Anthoni was a little heartbroken to hear Aziraphale sound so confident that his own siblings wouldn’t remember such an important date, but every gray cloud did seem to have its silver lining. 

“I think we should all take a trip to the summer home, though,” Michael said. “For at least half a week.” 

“That’s a great idea,” Gabriel agreed. “We haven’t been there together in years.” 

“We can get to know Anthoni better while we’re there,” Uriel added. “Maybe do a little wedding planning.” 

“The girls can bond,” Gabriel said, looking to Aziraphale. “And we can leave all the fancy wedding details up to them.” 

“That’s very kind, but I don’t think we’d want anything big,” Aziraphale said. “So, there wouldn’t be much to plan.”

“We were thinking something as soon as possible with just family,” Anthoni said. “We gave notice a week ago, so we only have to wait a couple more weeks.” 

“That might not be enough time for the church to prepare,” Gabriel said. “They’re going to need more of a notice. Father Mulcahy might have weddings lined up through the rest of the summer.”

Aziraphale looked between his siblings and then Anthoni. He wanted to tell Gabriel that a civil ceremony would fit them just fine and that a full Mass would be far too much for either of their tastes. Not to mention, if they waited too long, their secret wouldn’t be a secret anymore. He didn’t want to put Anthoni through the embarrassment of being visibly pregnant while wedding planning with his ultra-Catholic family. 

But Aziraphale also couldn’t say no to them.

“You’re right,” he said. “They would need more time, wouldn’t they?”

Anthoni rolled her eyes and threw her napkin down on the table. The siblings didn’t pay her little fit any attention. 

“We’ll discuss it later,” Michael said. “For right now, let’s plan this trip. Aziraphale, you can close up your little shop whenever you want, right?”

It really wasn’t practical to do so. 

“Right.” 

“And Anthoni—oh, I’m sorry I don’t think we know what you do.” 

“I work at the Royal Observatory. In Greenwich. I help plan exhibits.” 

“Oh.” Michael sat back in her seat. “That’s impressive.” 

“Thank you. But I don’t think they’ll miss me for a few days.”

“Perfect. We’ll settle on exact dates after dinner.” 

Anthoni had already been to the summer home once. Aziraphale had snuck her down there for a week when he was certain that no one else would be around. It was during their university years, and they went through many bottles of alcohol and spent many nights in the pond right outside the doorstep. It was a beautiful home, now handed down to the youngest generation of the family to do as they pleased. 

A plate of shrimp scampi passed the table. Anthoni’s mouth watered, and her stomach flipped. 

“Excuse me,” she said and rose to her feet, quickly crossing the dining room to the restrooms. 

* * *

“Are you feeling better?” Aziraphale asked. 

“I already told you that I am.” 

Anthoni was now in her pajamas as Aziraphale fluttered around her apartment, bringing her tea and dry toast and asking if she needed anything every few minutes. 

“Listen, angel, I’m fine. Stop pacing in circles before you make me vomit again.” 

Aziraphale sat on Anthoni’s armchair. He looked like a pangolin with his arms in front of his stomach, hands wrapped around one another. It was an adorable look, and Anthoni thought that he deserved to be in such a state. 

“I know I messed up tonight,” he said. “But I’ll fix it.” 

After snagging a mint from the bathroom attendant, Anthoni had made her way back to the table where Aziraphale had lost all control of the conversation. His siblings were excitedly discussing plans for the trip. Gabriel enthused about the hiking paths close by while Uriel mentioned the pond and the predicted heat. Michael said that she would pack wedding catalogs with her for the downtime.

The last thing Anthoni wanted to do was strenuous physical activity in mid-June heat with her near-constant nausea. Or look at wedding dresses. But Aziraphale had nodded along as if they were both okay with hikes and swims.

“How do we get out of this summer home trip?” Anthoni asked. 

Aziraphale laid his hands in his lap. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to. Not if we don’t want to look suspicious.” 

“Aziraphale, they’re going to notice the morning sickness.” 

“I’ll make sure you have the most secluded room with an attached bathroom. If you’re ill, you can sneak away. And we always end up doing our own thing after the first day. No one will be around, and I doubt that the girls are going to actually sit down and plan the wedding there. It won’t be as awful as it sounds.” 

“Alright.”

“I promise.” 

“Fine. But what about this wedding situation?” 

Aziraphale sighed. “I’ll think of something. I’ll talk to Gabriel.” 

“We can’t go through with a whole Mass. That’ll take months to plan, and I really don’t think needing a maternity wedding dress is going to be approved of by anyone in a Catholic church.” 

“I know. I’ll just… I’ll handle it. You don’t need to worry.” 

“I’m not worried.” 

“Well, don’t be stressed. It’s not good for the baby.” 

“I’m not stressed either.” 

Aziraphale twisted his hands around. He looked to be stressed enough for the both of them. Anthoni sighed and held out her hand. 

“Come here, angel.” 

Aziraphale perched on the edge of the sofa. Anthoni took his hand in between her own. She kissed his knuckles. 

“We’ll figure this out,” she said. “I’d prefer it if your family didn’t try ruining everything, but we can work around that. We’ll run off and do it alone if we need to and deal with your disownment. And in the meantime, we can just try to enjoy the fact that we’re going to be parents.” 

Aziraphale smiled. He pulled his hand away and hovered it over Anthoni’s stomach. He looked up at her.

“May I?” 

“Of course.” 

It was the first time that he had touched her stomach since they learned that she was pregnant. It didn’t feel any different than it usually did. Knowing that there was a minuscule baby inside didn’t change much at the moment. But it was nice knowing that it was there, somewhere, resting under his palm. 

“I’ll make sure everything gets taken care of,” he said. “We’ll have that civil marriage in two weeks, and if they have anything to say about it, well… they won’t be very good siblings, will they?” 

Anthoni rested her hand over Aziraphale’s. She didn’t know how to tell them that being good siblings never seemed to be high up on their agenda. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how often I'll be updating this fic, but I do have the next chapter already written! I hope everyone enjoyed!


End file.
